


what else could I do

by crookedspoon



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Choking, Clothed Sex, Desk Sex, Hair-pulling, Introspection, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Reno (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24170005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: After the plate crash, Reno hasn't been doing such a stellar job of keeping it together. Tseng calls him out on it.
Relationships: Reno/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	what else could I do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neurotoxia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurotoxia/gifts).



> Please accept this humble offering from a first-time writer (although long-time beta courtesy of my bffs - not that it means much with a memory like mine lol) in the fandom. This was inspired by the Turks scene near the end of the Remake and takes place sometime after the game. No knowledge of the OG necessary.
> 
> Many thanks to Neurotoxia for the beta. <3

"Reno, a word?"

Reno jolts as though he'd electrocuted himself with his own electro-mag rod.

_Crap. What now?_

He was just about to leave the office when Tseng spoke up, voice perfectly casual, no cause for alarm. His expression likewise betrays nothing of what he could want with Reno. Not that it's unusual, and Reno _is_ his second-in-command, so unscheduled meetings happen all the time, for a variety of reasons (some of which they could definitely not mention in their write-ups), but this one feels too abrupt to bode well for him. It sets him on edge.

Suppressing a sigh, Reno salutes Rude in parting ("Catch up with ya later") and waits for the automatic doors to close behind him. Only then does he let his cheery grin drop and turns toward Tseng.

Of course, despite wanting a word, Tseng keeps ignoring him in favour of his precious paperwork. For now. The paperwork always comes first. As if they wouldn't get their expenses covered if Tseng put down his pen for a second.

_Why not call me back in an hour? Geez._

Reno is too used to it to even roll his eyes anymore. On a normal day, he might have crossed his arms and sized Tseng up with a challenge in his eyes, thinking about ways to break his focus if only to have something to do while he waits to be addressed once more. Tseng's insistence on proper protocol and the adherence to hierarchy while on company grounds can be... grating at the best of times, and Reno's tolerance for bullshit like office politics has been at a low point lately.

If Reno were in any kind of mood to give Tseng shit for ignoring him, he'd already be sitting on the edge of the desk and leaning in so close that Tseng would have no choice but to acknowledge him. Those were the times. When he could get away with invading Tseng's space, brush his lips against Tseng's temple, the shell of his ear, and whisper filthy things into it. He used to love seeing Tseng's even gaze turn heated and his inhales become deeper with each of Reno's advances.

But yeah, Reno's not been in the mood of late and the worst thing is that it doesn't even bother him.

Reno is not going to admit it, even to himself, but beneath the thin veneer of annoyance there's a knot in his stomach, too. They're keeping on as if nothing had happened, as if they were _not_ responsible for the deaths of fifteen thousand people, or that anyway, those lives meant little in the grand scheme of things. That shit doesn't sit right with him, but there's nothing he can do about it other than be irritated with himself. Some professional he is. Can't even do his job without feeling guilty about it. Without feeling like he should be punished for his active role in the disaster, while at the same time dreading what that punishment might look like.

_Get a hold of yourself._

The seconds tick by noisily as he stands in front of Tseng's desk, running his fingers over the hem of his shirt and watching Tseng scan document after document. Each one gets its own signature until the stack dwindles down to nothing. Idly, Reno wonders how many people have been consigned to death through those documents. No new orders have reached his own desk but then again, Reno has dealt enough damage to last him a lifetime. Who knows, maybe Tseng is even being considerate and cutting him some slack. He did basically tell Reno to take some time off, but Reno had refused. The last thing he wants is to be alone with his thoughts. At least work provides him with some distraction.

"Your performance has been lacklustre of late," Tseng comments as his pen finishes its last flourish.

 _You can say_ that _again._

"My _performance,_ huh?" Reno stretches, and it pleases him to see Tseng's eyes drinking in the sliver of midriff he's exposing. 

Hmm. Maybe he could _get_ in the mood. It's worth a try, at least. He's sick of feeling like shit.

He saunters around the table. 

"In your esteemed opinion, how can I improve my _performance?"_

Tseng leans back in his cushy office chair and swivels to face Reno, elbow on the desk and fingertips resting against his cheek. His eyes are cool, his lips spread into a faint smile, and his head is tilted in contemplation, as if he were going to humour Reno's question by answering in kind. Reno notices the way his thighs are spread – just wide enough to accommodate Reno's narrow frame between them.

"I'm pleased to see you're back to your old form," Tseng says and places the documents onto his 'Out' stack before rising from his chair. "Rude's reports on your nightly excursions were beginning to worry me."

"Oh?" Reno's stomach drops. He doesn't want to be reminded of the reason for those 'excursions'. "I was under the impression nothing _could_ worry you, boss. My deepest apologies."

"Don't be smart with me, Reno."

Reno bites back a growl. Tseng's cool disposition pisses him off sometimes. "So Rude is snitching on me now."

"Not out of his own volition, if that's what you're concerned about. I asked him to." Tseng walks around him calmly, the soles of his shoes tapping on the polished floor with each measured step. "As I said, I was worried."

"What about, exactly?" Reno sneers. "Me, or your own ass?"

It's a stupid thing to say. Tseng has never been about covering his own ass, just that of the company, but it's like Reno _wants_ to pick a fight with him.

Tseng curls his fingers around Reno's chin, as if to stop him from riding himself deeper into shit.

"You don't think spending your nights getting drunk is worrying behaviour?"

"Isn't that what bars are for?" Reno asks as he wrests his face from Tseng's grasp. His glare would have blinded lesser men.

"It's bad for group morale to see one's superior officer drown his sorrows in cheap alcohol every night."

Tseng has backed Reno against the desk; Reno is nearly sitting on it. A curious light flashes in Tseng's eyes and he can't decide whether it's desire or, you know, anger at Reno for being a shit role model and half-assing his duties. Hard to pinpoint sometimes. Tseng is like an unruffled pond, and a cloudy one at that: there's no telling what's going on beneath the surface.

"So that's what you're worried about. Negatively affected group morale." Reno scoffs. "What now? Am I in trouble?"

Tseng leans so close that his clean scent of soap and sandalwood fills Reno's nose. It never fails to strike him as odd how a guy who does so much dirty work can smell so neat without reeking of chemicals.

"All signs indicate that you want to be," Tseng murmurs into Reno's ear, lightly placing his hand on Reno's neck.

Reno swallows, feeling Tseng's thumb trail from his jaw to his Adam's apple. "Does that mean you're going to discipline me like a rookie?"

A smile tugs at Tseng's lips. "I guess your chastisement falls within my purview as director. If that is what you've been after all along."

Reno's skin prickles; he feels hot. He averts his gaze, not knowing how to answer. There's a part of him that craves all the ways Tseng can make him feel, and yet another that thinks he deserves none of them.

"Then what the fuck are you waiting for?" Reno snaps anyway. Oh, he definitely wants to pick a fight. "Let's get this over with."

Tseng grips his neck tighter, squeezing off the blood flow through Reno's carotid arteries and forcing him to look Tseng in the eyes. They're shrewd and penetrating. And so, so pretty.

Reno's breath clogs in his throat. He probably shouldn't be thinking about how pretty they are when his boss is choking him.

"Very well," Tseng says, as if he was satisfied with what he saw on Reno's face.

Almost casually, he takes out his PHS and swipes through it. For a dreadful second, Reno thinks Tseng might be calling security on him to escort him to the holding cells. But no call is going out to anyone. Tseng just inputs a series of commands before pocketing the PHS again.

There's a beep coming from the door as the mechanism locks it. Reno's eyes flicker to the upper corners of the room where the security cameras are hidden and his oxygen-deprived brain finally catches up. Tseng will have disabled them, too, if he's going to have a private moment with Reno.

Spots are dancing across his vision as Tseng pushes him down onto the desk. Reno bends backwards awkwardly until his elbows support his weight; it doesn't occur to him to fight it. He sucks in a breath as Tseng releases his arteries and blood rushes back into his head. Tseng's palm slides further down his neck. 

Reno shivers. The leather of Tseng's gloves is cool and sort of waxy against his skin as Tseng strokes his fingers over Reno's breastbone. He undoes the clasp of Reno's jacket, then the buttons of his shirt. 

The appraisal in Tseng's eyes makes Reno flush, even though it's the very thing he's aiming for with his low neckline. It's taken him years of training with (and, ugh, _diet_ advice from) Rude to gain some definition on his chest, so why not show off the fruits of his labour? All the better if it draws his standoffish superior's attention. Tseng could scarcely wrench his gaze away from Reno's collarbones, and had to drag Reno to a secluded spot to "berate" him for his lax dress code. Reno _did_ wear his shirt buttoned up higher the next day – but only he didn't want to advertise what he'd been up to. That was also the day he bought some makeup to cover up the hickeys Tseng left on his chest.

He might need another bottle after tonight. There's only so much he can cover up with bandaids and blame on the bruises he sustained in battle.

So far, Tseng is exploring Reno's torso with his hands instead of his mouth, as though he seems determined to find every last bit of skin where Reno aches. The groan that escapes Reno is not a sexy one, though he hopes Tseng won't notice the difference. Not all of his bruises have healed yet, but that doesn't mean he'd want to call things off already. He'd much rather see what Tseng has in store for him tonight.

Reno gasps as Tseng rubs the pads of his thumbs over his nipples. It makes him aware of how tight his pants have become.

He draws a shaky breath, trying to ignore it for now, but Tseng has a knack for calling Reno's attention to whatever it is he's avoiding. He pinches Reno's left nipple and rolls it between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger. Reno feels the twinge zip through his body, straight to the tip of his cock. It's filling in the tight confines of his pants.

"Tseng," he breathes, unable to help himself.

The tips of Tseng's fingers brush over the front of Reno's neck before the curl beneath his chin to lift it.

"What is it, Reno?"

Tseng's voice is deceptively soft, yet still commanding. Reno has no idea how he does that, this calm control. Reno is anything but calm. Perspiration is beading on his skin even though his chest is exposed to the cool office air.

When Tseng raises an eyebrow at him, Reno swallows.

"Slap me," he says. And grits his teeth right after, because it wasn't what he'd wanted to say. It's not that there was anything he'd wanted to say, but that certainly wasn't it.

"Sure you haven't been through enough beatings of late?" Tseng asks and strokes his thumb over Reno's bottom lip.

Reno grimaces. Again with the reminder of all his failures. Reno couldn't bring in the Ancient and got his ass handed to him instead; Reno couldn't drop the plate by himself and dragged Rude into his mess; and even together they couldn't neutralise the terrorist element. Yet despite his fuck-ups along the way, he completed the mission. That's what should count, except that it's the one job he can't take pride in. In fact, he feels like crap about it even though he knows, rationally, he wouldn't feel much better if he'd defied orders. And it wasn't only his professional pride at stake this time. Defy orders of this magnitude and you can be sure you won't get new ones. Ever.

Still, Reno feels like he got away with something he shouldn't have, and the beating he got out of it wasn't enough to make up for all the pain and suffering he caused.

The slap seems to come out of nowhere but the sound of it rings through Reno's head. He was so caught up in his own spiralling thoughts that he wasn't prepared for it.

"You're a Turk, Reno," Tseng says as though he was right there in Reno's mind and could see how he's beating himself up. "Do you think this is acceptable behaviour?"

Reno's left cheek is stinging, and the residual pain of the slap is thrumming through his body. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. Fuck no, he doesn't think that. He thinks it's pathetic. He can barely tolerate this type of behaviour in a rookie, but in a senior officer? He'd be throttling them himself.

When he opens his eyes again, he notices Tseng's hair is thrown back over his right shoulder. He wants to reach out and touch it, feel the long strands like gossamer silk between his fingers. Tseng doesn't like Reno's grubby fingers in his hair, at least not while they're at work. Reno _could_ contend himself with touching Tseng's neck instead, maybe leaving a few hickeys of his own. If only he dared reach out.

"What do you mean exactly? Screwing the boss?" he asks belatedly, just to be a pain in the ass. "Naw, not really, but you never seemed to complain about it before, _boss."_

Tseng's smile is small but no less sharp as his hands run up Reno's thighs. And fuck, it makes him aware again of how little wiggle room he has in his pants. Tseng's touch seems to light up every nerve ending beneath the fabric and if Reno didn't know any better, he'd say Tseng is casting a low current of Lightning to make that happen.

"As long as you make it worth my while."

Reno groans when Tseng's fingers brush over the outline of his trapped erection and, yeah, this time it's the sexy kind. Tseng's touch grows firmer and Reno lets his head fall back. This... this is good. And maybe Reno shouldn't feel good, maybe he should be grovelling on the floor, asking Tseng to kick him around some more, because it's more fitting to his overall mood, but on the other hand—

The sound of his zipper is like a sigh of relief. Maybe he can allow himself this. He couldn't very well tell his boss to stop now, could he?

The moment Tseng peels aside his pants Reno can feel blood pulse through his nether regions.

Though only for that one sweet moment, because the next it's as though his blood goes still like the rest of him. Tseng's hand is curved around his erection and the dryness of his glove pinches a little but fuck, Reno can't help but twitch into that. He rides that edge of discomfort, knowing it will fall on the side of pleasure soon enough.

He licks his lips, concentrating on the leisurely way that Tseng strokes him. If the use of magic was possible without Materia, Tseng must have found to wield it because his fingers are nothing if not magical.

Reno is so close to getting used to the dry tug and just as it is about to tip over into pleasure, Tseng stops.

"Turn around," he orders and it takes a second for Reno's addled mind to catch up.

Something tells him now would be the worst time to argue if this is supposed to have a good outcome for him. So he just slips off the desk and does as he's told, cock jutting flushed and neglected out of his open fly.

"Bend over."

Reno's cock twitches at the command. His breath is coming hot now. He places his hands in front of him on the desk, feeling the grain of the wood.

There's something thrilling but at the same time disquieting about doing it here, where they hold meetings, discuss strategy, or simply chill until their next deployment. Reno is going to think about this when they all come together next time; he'll sit with the rest, but he'll glance over at Tseng's desk and see himself there, shirt and trousers open, anticipating Tseng's next move, and Tseng will notice where his gaze wanders and share a secretive smile him, one that says he knows what Reno is thinking about, because he's thinking about it, too.

Reno shudders. 

He's never thought about it as disquieting before. In fact, he wouldn't have given a damn about who walked in on them so long as it didn't end in their suspension or worse. (Rude would have both their hides in that case, to hell with rank and authority.) He's grateful that Tseng is not as deliberately careless as he is, because Reno's eyes keep flickering to the locked doors as if anticipating someone to burst through any second. But Tseng would never forget to override the security cameras if he wanted a private moment with Reno.

And Reno? Reno doesn't want to be seen like this. Trembling and weak, and only able to give Tseng lip because it's what comes naturally to him. He feels sorta fractured and floundering, without direction, without answers, and it's driving him up a wall. No part of his job ever used to bother him, even when he went home drenched in blood and brain matter that was not his, but that was of his making. Yet for some reason the faceless thousands he had to condemn still haunt his waking hours.

A firm pressure between his shoulder blades startles him out of his brooding. Tseng is pushing him further down onto the desk. Reno hisses when his exposed chest meets the cool surface.

Meanwhile, Tseng is exposing Reno's ass to view as well. Reno takes a steadying breath. There's no telling if Tseng is actually going to discipline Reno with his ass out in the open, or if they're going to skip right to the main event. He hopes it's the latter. Getting the strap can be fun and all when he deserves it – and Reno definitely deserves so much worse – but at the same time he's not sure how much he can take. He feels so fucking fragile and he hates that about himself. It makes him want to prove his sturdiness all the more.

And yet, he doesn't sound so sturdy when he all but sobs to feel something cold and wet slide between his ass cheeks. His relief is palpable and it washes through him in a wave of heat. Tseng is slicking him up with lube from a bottle he keeps in his desk for these occasions. It makes Reno hot to think he's the sole reason it's in there in the first place. At least, that's what he tells himself. Any alternative would be unacceptable. Reno wants something to himself for once in his life. If that makes him greedy, then fine, he's a greedy bastard. Just as long as no one touches Tseng like he does.

And ain't that pathetic?

Reno stops being so harsh with himself when Tseng eases a finger into him. Instead, he pushes back and moans. Fuck, but he's missed that.

Tseng winds his other hand around Reno's hair and uses it as a leash to draw Reno back toward him. Reno has no choice but to follow and arch his spine if he wants to keep the pressure light. 

"Remember," Tseng murmurs into his ear, "if you finish on my desk, I'll make you clean it up with your mouth."

Reno swallows. He's not sure what appeals more to him: sullying Tseng's desk or being made to suck it clean. It's like Tseng is right there in his head.

Reno manages a weak "Yeah" and Tseng lets go of his hair again. Reno leans forward on his elbows. A second finger enters him. The stretch is getting more intense, but it's just what Reno needs.

"Tseng," he whines, high-pitched and needy, as if he had the right to demand anything.

"Hmm?" Tseng asks indulgently.

And Reno... he doesn't deserve to be treated so nicely. Wasn't the whole reason Tseng asked him to stay behind so he could reprimand him for his recent fuckups and his bad work ethic? How can he be so fucking accommodating now?

Accommodating or not, it doesn't extend toward his patience because the next thing Reno knows, Tseng is pressing down on his prostate as if to urge him to speak.

"Fuck, Tseng, I—" Reno gasps.

"Yes?" 

"Fuck. Don't make me say it."

"How can I help you if you won't tell me what it is you need."

"You know damn well what it is," Reno grumbles, too drained to even contest the assumption that he needs anything.

"You overestimate my ability to read your mind."

Tseng prods him again. Sharp sparks of pleasure burst through Reno.

"Shit," Reno curses. "I need you, okay? You happy now? I need you to fuck me and I'm not gonna take no for an answer."

Reno has no idea where that vehemence comes from but he'll worry about it later. 

Except, after a moment when Tseng says nothing in response, he _does_ worry he said too much. Oh, bother. What now?

Tseng eases out his fingers, but continues to say nothing. Reno chances a glance over his shoulders to see him clean the slick from his glove with a handkerchief. His eyes are like dark coals, giving off heat even from this distance.

He stuffs the handkerchief back into his jacket pocket and bends down to open a drawer. Reno's blood rushes south to hear the condom wrapper crinkle even before he sees it.

Tseng is deliberate in his movements, as if he wants to afford Reno as much time as he can to change his mind. The question is: why would he change his mind if this is what he wants?

"Last chance to back out," Tseng says as he coats his condom-sheathed length with some more lube.

"You're kidding, right?" Reno shoots back. "Don't tell me _you_ want to back out."

"Not unless I have to."

If Reno wanted to say anything more, he forgets all about it when he feels Tseng grab his hips and slide his wet cock between Reno's cheeks. Reno stills and licks his lips. Blood is rushing through his ears. He's so hot he's sweating beneath his clothes; the surface of the desk is blessedly cool in comparison as he rests his cheek on it. His heart is thudding loudly against his ribcage as he reaches back to hold himself open for Tseng. 

And then he can think of nothing but Tseng's hard length sliding into him. 

He groans. Or maybe Tseng does, he can't be sure. All he knows is how good Tseng feels inside him. 

Tseng rocks into him, inch by torturous inch, and Reno is panting open-mouthed by the time Tseng can slide his entire length into him with ease.

Reno is leaking. He can already feel his own cock gushing with precome that Tseng forces out of him with each precise jab against his prostate. At this rate, he's not gonna last at all.

Just when he regrets that fact, Tseng winds his hand around Reno's hair again and pulls him back against his chest. Unlike before, the pain radiating out from the base of his skull is tinged with pleasure and he's pulsing with it. Tseng's other hand snakes around Reno's throat and squeezes his arteries.

"I'm glad we were able to have this talk, aren't you?" Tseng husks into his ear and lets go of Reno's hair in favour of wrapping his arm around his torso. It makes his thrusts go deeper.

Reno just nods dumbly and gasps for breath as Tseng continues using him like this. His vision begins to swim but it's all peachy. Reno can't remember a time when he's felt better than this.

He's about to pass out when a voice reaches him through his haze, whispering _I can't lose you, Reno._

And fucking fine, so he's not gonna pass out then, he can hold out just a little longer, but his vision is more black than anything and he's beginning to feel funny, too. All loose and without definition. The only points of reference left to him are all the places Tseng is touching.

The moment Tseng eases his hold around his neck, feeling rushes back into Reno's awareness as oxygen rushes back into his brain. It's like an explosion of colour, but of sensitivity, too. Suddenly, the roots of his hair beneath his goggles are almost causing him pain, and the fabric of his shirt is rubbing uncomfortably against his skin, too. And if that weren't enough, he feels the outline of Tseng's cock that much more intimately as it slides in and out of him, as if to brush each and every one of his nerve endings along the way.

It's overwhelming, to say the least. Reno all but drops flat on his face, because not even his arms can keep him up anymore.

Tseng leans over him, pinning his hands to the desk with his own, and grinding into Reno with a pace that is at odds with the way they fucked before, but it suits Reno just fine. He hadn't noticed how precariously he's been balancing on the edge of release until his body nearly turned to putty beneath Tseng. 

His cock is rubbing against the desk with each of Tseng's leisurely thrusts and it's enough to push him over that edge. Reno groans as he comes and his body goes taut for a long moment before his muscles simply give out, too fatigued from the high tension of the past few days to hold him together much longer.

It doesn't take long for Tseng to finish after that. He presses his forehead against the nape of Reno's back as he comes and stays like this for a bit, until his trembling subsides. Reno would love to be able to just turn around and enclose Tseng in his arms, even if neither of them are good with displays of affection like that.

Maybe one day they'll manage to do it in an actual bed again and not some inconvenient location around their workplace. At least there it's not so weird to fall asleep against each other.

Tseng regains his composure way too soon and Reno grunts when he pulls out. Cold settles over him. Cold and something else. For now, he doesn't want to examine that something too closely. He feels... better. Different, at any rate. He takes that over feeling like crap any day.

It takes some effort, but Reno raises himself to his rubbery elbows, and from there to his wrists. The desk beneath him is damp with his sweat.

When he turns, he sees Tseng undoing his hair. Strands of it have fallen out of place and now they're cascading over Tseng's ears to his shoulders. Reno reaches out with arms like lead, so drawn to the glossy locks he can't help himself. He always feels drawn to Tseng's hair. He would have to be blind not to. (And even then... or maybe especially then he'd want to touch.)

At first he thinks Tseng is going to brush his hands away, like he usually does, but this time, he allows Reno to run his knuckles over them and to twirl the ends around his fingers. Tseng's hair is so soft. Reno never fails to be awed by this. To him, it's like a rose in the desert, something inexplicably beautiful that has no business blooming under the harsh conditions. He manages to press a kiss to the strand around his finger before Tseng gathers into the knot at the back of his head.

He's still a little rumpled and Reno likes the look on him. Likes it especially when he was the cause of the disarray. He drinks Tseng in like that as he tucks himself away and pulls up his pants.

"You finished on my desk," Tseng notes.

Reno is too beat to tell whether he's amused or angry about it, but he takes his chances and fishes Tseng's handkerchief out of his pocket.

"I'll lick it off some other time," he says and wipes his spunk away. "If you wanna do that again, that is."

Man, but he's tired. All that worrying from the past few days is catching up with him and he is beat.

He chucks the used piece of cloth into the wastepaper basket under Tseng's desk, even though Tseng would tell him it doesn't belong in there. As long as it's flammable, it's all the same to Reno.

So this is it then. They've come to the point of awkward goodbyes, when he doesn't know whether kissing Tseng would be one step too far or if they've already crossed all the relevant lines and he might as well. That never gets any easier. It might be the fact that, strictly speaking, they shouldn't be doing this. Tseng is his superior. Though strictly speaking, they shouldn't do a lot of shady things that their job entails. It all comes down to perspective.

And perspective is something Reno has gained a lot of in the last however many minutes he's been with Tseng. What an asshole he's been. He feels shitty for letting his guilty conscience get the better of him. At a time when Tseng needs him most.

"I—" he says as he's finished buttoning up half his shirt, but then stops himself. He can't say he's sorry. That feels vaguely insulting. He needs to own up to his bullshit. "I won't let you down again." 

Reno can crave punishment for his deeds all he likes, but at the end of the day, none of those deeds can be undone. Nothing he does will ever absolve him of his crimes, so he might as well just suck it up and live with the burden of that knowledge. The same way Tseng does.

"I know," Tseng says simply and places a hand on Reno's shoulder.

And it's the simplicity of that statement that makes Reno relax. Tseng still trusts him. Has never stopped trusting him. That means Reno hasn't fucked up too bad to come back from it.

So he puts on his best cocky grin and salutes Tseng in parting. The longer he stays, the greater the want for something more becomes. Even though what he has is more than he deserves. Still, he _wants_ to be deserving, and for that, he needs to find his own footing again first.

He's almost at the door when Tseng speaks up again.

"And Reno?"

"Hm?"

"Next time you feel the need for a drink, let me know beforehand."

"You wanna join me now, is that it?"

"You might need a supervisor."

Reno huffs a laugh. "You got it, boss." He salutes again, this time with a saucy wink. "It's a date."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "The Way to Keep Going in Antarctica" by Bernadette Mayer.
> 
> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/crookedteaspoon) and pretty much need some more FF7 content on my dash.


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